


Deimos

by BnB (The_Third_Time)



Series: Deimos [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Omega, F/F, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, alpha!Kassandra, omega!Aspasia, omega!Daphnae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 07:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21442657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Third_Time/pseuds/BnB
Summary: Aspasia has escaped Athens and Deimos is on the hunt. Myrrine ventures out of Kephallonia, determined to get Kassandra back. In the middle of it is Daphnae, Artemis, and a prophecy.
Relationships: Daphnae/Kassandra (Assassin's Creed)
Series: Deimos [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1438648
Comments: 78
Kudos: 209





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Series Recap: the Cult finds Kassandra after Nikolaos throws her off Taygetos. Myrrine leaves Sparta with Alexios and winds up in Kephallonia. Kassandra becomes Deimos, groomed and manipulated by Aspasia. When Kassandra kills Perikles, Aspasia goes to Kephallonia to find Myrrine.
> 
> Customary warning of **OMEGAVERSE**. Also a reminder the Aspasia/Kassandra relationship here is all kinds of fucked up. I didn't tag them as a couple because Daphnae and Kassandra are going to end up together, but it'll be a while before Kassandra gets over Aspasia, and Aspasia isn't about to help with that.

“Your daughter didn’t die that night on Mount Taygetos, Myrrine. She survived the fall, and the Cult of Kosmos found her. They raised her a warrior stronger than any Spartan, even her own grandfather, and infinitely more ruthless. She is a weapon, a force. A god.”

Myrrine knew at once whom Aspasia meant, the alpha mercenary whose name was known to all of the Greek world: “Deimos.”

“Yes. Deimos, Kassandra of Sparta, one and the same. She is your daughter, Myrrine.”

Myrrine stood, but it didn’t make breathing any easier, nor did the sudden, crushing weight on her shoulders feel lighter. Kassandra was alive. Her baby girl, alive all this time, all these years, in the Cult’s clutches.

She looked at Aspasia, looked into the other omega’s cold gray eyes, and she asked, “Who are you? Who are you, really?”

Aspasia sat back, relaxed, unnervingly calm. “I am the reason why the Cult of Kosmos has yet to find you, Myrrine, why its eyes and ears never turned to Kephallonia. I am the reason you are still alive.”

“You,” Myrrine growled, crushing the sides of the table until there were only splinters left between her hands. “Were you behind that prophecy? Did you tear my family apart, take my daughter?” Her hands were on Aspasia’s throat now. “What have you done to her? What has she become?”

Aspasia could speak, just enough. “The pythia’s prophecy was before my time. The Cult wanted the bloodline to end with your children, but then, your daughter survived. They saw a pup, alone, abandoned, impressionable. They saw power, the bloodline serving the Cult.” 

Myrrine’s grip slackened. She imagined Kassandra at the pit of Taygetos, but unlike in her nightmares, her pup rose from the pile of bones, and she wasn’t there. She wasn’t there for Kassandra. She had left with Alexios, and she didn’t look back.

“Why are you here, Aspasia?” she asked. There was no force in her voice, gone as it had from her hands. The red marks on Aspasia’s neck told of a rage she no longer felt. “Why does the Cult seek me out now? Does my own daughter want me dead?”

Aspasia fixed her hair, adjusted her chiton. She didn’t touch her bruised neck. “I’m here only for myself, Myrrine. What flimsy ties I had with the Cult of Kosmos were severed when Perikles died.”

“Why is that? Do you regret having him killed? Did you actually love him?”

“Nothing so fanciful or romantic. Perikles’ death was inevitable, necessary, but… not like this.”

“Then why did Kassandra kill Perikles?” Myrrine asked, and when Aspasia didn’t answer, simply looked at her and waited, she had to sit down. “Because you made her love you, but it was Perikles you went home with.”

“Kassandra is--”

“Don’t say her name. Don’t you fucking say my daughter’s name.” Myrrine had rasped out the words, but it was a threat, far more than when she had her hands on Aspasia’s throat.

Aspasia nodded, and waited a long moment before speaking. “The Cult believe they can control your daughter. They are wrong. You cannot leash a god. Your daughter will realize this, and when she does, she’ll do to the Cult what she had done to Perikles, and then to Sparta, and then the rest of the world, until there’s nothing left to destroy.”

Myrrine didn’t move, though her maternal instincts howled for Aspasia’s blood. “Then tell me everything,” she demanded. “The Cult, who they are, where they are, what they’ll do next.” Then she growled, “But know this, Aspasia: when I get my daughter back, when I get Kassandra back, you will die.”

* * *

“Aspasia is missing?” Deimos snarled, and Kleon would have made a sound, maybe squeak like the mouse he was behaving like, but she didn’t give him a chance. Her hand was on his throat, and she only loosened her grip when he went limp.

Kleon dropped to his knees, coughing and wheezing.

Deimos counted in her head. One. Two. Three. When he still didn’t get up, she kicked him so that he’d be on his back. Then she stepped on his chest, and asked, “I gave you Athens on a platter, and you lose Aspasia?”

Kleon grasped her leg, feebly trying to lift her foot off his chest. She waited for him to stop, for him to realize he wasn’t strong enough, and when he did, she let him up. He got to his feet, clumsily. “A platter? You gave me a city overstuffed with people and panic!” he yelled and flailed his arms, but it just made him look smaller. “I have more important things to do than keep track of one omega! Like clean up the mess you made.”

Deimos growled, the theatrics wearing what little patience she cared to spare for Kleon. “You’ve been saying Perikles’ death is long overdue.”

“Yes, but not like this!” Kleon continued to yell, and the more he did, the braver he grew, the more foolish. “Not with Perikles bleeding in the middle of the Pnyx like a goat on an altar!”

“That sounds like something Aspasia would say.”

Kleon stopped, having noticed the show of her fangs and how she glowered. He backed off, held up his hands. “You’re right, Deimos. You’re right. I’ll get the city and the people under control, and then we’ll search for Aspasia. You have my word.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Deimos snatched Kleon up by the throat, and slammed him against the wall. She let him squirm and squeak, and watched his eyes get wider and wider.

“Find Aspasia,” she said. “Now.”

He nodded, again and again until she let him go. Then he was on the floor again, small and whining. Weak and pathetic. She left him like that.

* * *

Myrrine wasn’t going to sleep tonight, not with a snake in her home. She had checked on Alexios many times, and each time, he was there, sleeping. Each time, she wondered what Kassandra was doing at that moment.

Tearing Athens apart looking for Aspasia? Sailing to Sparta to kill Archidamos?

Sailing to Megaris to kill Nikolaos?

She thought of Nikolaos holding Kassandra at the edge of Taygetos and letting go. Her mate, whom she mourned for years, had chosen Sparta over their pup. He was a general now, Aspasia told her. The Wolf of Sparta, they called him.

A weakling, they should instead. A worm.

Myrrine woke Markos, asking him to watch Alexios. He agreed, not asking any questions in turn, just like he hadn’t about Aspasia. He even offered the Pramnian to her, but wine wouldn’t help in the way he thought. Alphas and omegas didn’t get drunk.

She went outside, where she found Xenia. The pirate alpha’s memorable commanding presence and posture were muted by shame and guilt.

“Did you know about Aspasia?” she asked.

“No,” Xenia said, the answer Myrrine suspected. “I met Aspasia similarly to how I met you. She was an omega running from something, and I took her elsewhere, like she had asked. We’d only spoken through letters since, until now.”

“She is cunning, ambitious. Dangerous, even now. Especially now. There is nothing too cruel and callous for her.” Myrrine snarled the last of her words, so viciously that Xenia actually stepped back.

When Xenia stood next to her again and spoke, the alpha did so quietly. “I met her. Your daughter.”

Myrrine’s breath caught. She stared at Xenia. “What was she like?”

“She has your eyes, the same color, the same look in them.” Xenia paused then, almost looked away. “She was quiet, hardly spoke. Scars everywhere, on her body, on her face. She had such rage, such terrifying wrath, but never on omegas. Perhaps, because of you?”

Myrrine sighed. “If only it were.”

* * *

In Phokis, Daphnae was awake. Not unusual, since Daughters were more active at night. She was at the Temple of Artemis, having just made an offering and prayed. Her goddess was ever silent, but tonight, it unsettled her.

She needed answers, guidance.

Her sisters in Attika had just sent word: the alpha who had killed Perikles was very alpha who bested the Nemean Lion.

She was not alone for long. She expected the company before she scented them. “Mater. Pater,” she greeted her parents, and walked into her father’s open arms, falling into the warm embrace.

“My girl,” her father whispered against her hair.

“We thought you might be here,” her mother said. “The news is troubling. Has Artemis brought you any comfort, any clarity? It was as she told me that day: that an alpha, wielding a broken spear, would tame the Nemean Lion. An alpha bearing Zeus’ eagle. An alpha with amber eyes.”

“They call her Deimos,” Daphnae told her mother. “A god who has spilled enough blood to fill the Styx, and will spill more until it’s overflowing. Artemis wants this alpha, this monster, to be my mate?”

“Don’t doubt our goddess, my girl. She showed herself to me when I needed her the most. Your father lives because of her.”

Daphnae closed her eyes, basked in father’s warmth and strong purring, how safe it made her feel. “Yes, Mater.” She couldn’t imagine life without her father. How hollow it would be for her and her mother. How sad.

“This alpha, this Deimos, is like us,” her father said. “Of that, I am sure. If we find her bloodline, we may find Artemis’ reason.”

“For now, we’ll continue to observe Deimos,” her mother decided. “What Artemis does, she does for her daughters, and she does so with love. In time, you’ll understand this, my girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only had this chapter outlined, but I do have a general idea of where to take things. I’m really excited about this story ever since I realized I could have Daphnae’s parents alive here.


	2. Chapter 2

“So. You’re leaving Kephallonia.”

“Yes.”

Markos scratched his beard, a nervous habit. Myrrine noticed the white in it, and in his hair. How long had it been like that? He seemed older, and so suddenly. 

She didn’t tell him everything, just enough: that she was Spartan, Leonidas’ daughter, why she left Sparta, and why she had to go back. Of the Cult of Kosmos, she told him nothing. Still, Markos was winded, overwhelmed. She knew what he was thinking. What about Kephallonia and its people? Could he lead in her place?

“What about Alexios?”

He was only fifteen, not a boy but also not a man, and he was no warrior, no soldier. At his age, Kassandra was already Deimos.

“I’d like for him to stay here,” she said of Alexios. “Would you do this for me, Markos?”

Markos smiled. “Of course. We’re friends, you and I.”

Myrrine hugged him, and it was probably the first time she did.

* * *

The bed still smelled like Aspasia, but also like Perikles as well. It should burn, like the rest of the house, like all of Athens.

The purple chiton Deimos held, however, was all Aspasia. It was the omega’s favorite, and now it was mere tatters. Deimos didn’t remember when she had torn the chiton, only that she found it on the floor. Aspasia had left in a hurry, had taken nothing.

Kleon wouldn’t want her here, not in Perikles’ house, not in Athens at all. He wouldn’t dare say it.

She went outside, and there was Alkibiades.

“Deimos,” the male omega greeted her, too calm, too familiar. “Aspasia left without you, did she? That is surprising, I must say.”

“Do you know where she is?” Deimos asked. Alkibiades knew about her and Aspasia. Perikles had been like a father to him, but he had said nothing, done nothing, even after she killed Perikles. Why not, she didn’t know, and she didn’t care.

“No,” Alkibiades said. “I don’t know where Aspasia is, or where she went.”

She couldn’t tell if he was lying. It always seemed like he was playing a game, and only he was privy to the rules. He was like Aspasia that way.

Alkibiades approached her. He wasn’t timid like most omegas. He used to touch her often, shamelessly presented himself to her after she had just been with Aspasia. He touched her now, his hand drifting from her chest to her shoulder to her back as he circled her. She allowed it.

“I wonder: what happens if you don’t find her?”

Alkibiades’ wandering fingers stopped, and then slid down her arm. He took her hand. He tried. She wouldn’t let him. She didn’t want his scent on Aspasia’s chiton. What little of it was left, it was hers.

“What will you do, Deimos?” Alkibiades reached for her again, this time, for her face. “Who are you without Aspasia?” he asked, and then he left, not waiting for an answer.

* * *

“Pater?” Daphnae called out when she exited her hut. She was surprised to see her father there, waiting for her. “I thought you and Mater would have left for Attika already.”

“Your mother went ahead,” her father said, pulling her into a hug. “I wanted to spend a little more time with you.”

Daphnae clung to her father and closed her eyes. “I hate when Mater reminds me that she would have taken your life had Artemis not changed her mind. I could never.” Her voice shook. “I could never.”

“Oh, my girl,” her father murmured, purred for her and rubbed her back soothingly. “It was the Daughters’ old ways. It changed with your mother, when she spared me.”

“Do you believe like Mater does, Pater? Are you going to force me to mate with that monster?”

Her father drew back to look at her. “I believe there’s more to Artemis’ prophecy, as well as Deimos.”

“Is that why you want to find her bloodline?” Daphnae asked. Her father sat down, and she sat next to her father.

“Yes. There are few of our kind, and those like us even fewer.” Her father then fell silent, pensive. “In Sparta, I knew an omega, Myrrine, the daughter of Leonidas. She was like us. I was even supposed to be her mate, so we would continue our bloodlines, preserve our kind. When I chose to be with your mother, Myrrine mated another alpha. She had two pups. Were they still alive, I’d suspect Deimos to be Myrrine’s.”

“What happened to them?”

Her father’s jaw clenched, and Daphnae knew that to be an attempt to curb emotion. Even after years of being with her mother and among the Daughters, her father was still very much a Spartan alpha, and Spartan alphas didn’t show weakness, didn’t feel it. Spartan alphas were soft only about their mates and omega pups. 

When her father finally spoke, it was with a steady voice. “Word from Sparta is that there was an accident one night, and she lost both her pups. Then she took her own life.” Her father sighed, and shook her head. “If anything happened to you, Daphnae, I can’t say if I won’t do the same. You are my daughter, and I would never let any harm come to you.”

Then her father growled, because if there was one thing Spartan alphas expressed and expressed well, it was aggression. “If I’m wrong about Deimos, and she is as terrible as we’ve heard, then I will put her down like the rabid dog that she is. Artemis be damned.”

* * *

“Alexios didn’t look too upset. What lie did you tell him?”

Myrrine didn’t spare Aspasia a glance. She ignored the question, the taunt with which it was asked. She did lie to Alexios. She had to. Better that he thought she was leaving to do business with Athens. Better that he didn’t know what Aspasia really was, what the monster had done to his sister.

She closed the door and sat behind her desk. She looked to her right, where across her Xenia sat.

“Xenia, I’d like to hire the Siren’s Call to take me to Sparta. I’ll pay upfront, for this and for years ago, with interest. Do we have an agreement?”

“Sparta?” Aspasia spoke before Xenia could. “Is that wise?”

Myrrine took a moment, else she would have bared her fangs at Aspasia, and she refused to give the snake the satisfaction. “Sparta needs to know that Pausanias is a traitor. Kleon has the Athenian army at his command. The only way we can fight back is to weed Cult out from Sparta, starting with Pausinias.”

“But how will you prove his guilt?”

“I wouldn’t need to.”

“Because of who you are, Myrrine? Because you’re Leonidas’ daughter? That didn’t stop Sparta from offering your children to Taygetos at the pythia’s whim. What makes you think they’ll take your word over Pausanias’, a beloved king, a brilliant tactician who will soon claim Megaris for Sparta?”

“Then give me proof,” Myrrine demanded. “I’ll have the ephors summoned. Sparta won’t question their judgment.”

Aspasia raised an eyebrow, looking at her like she was a fool. “Were it that simple, the Cult of Kosmos would have ceased to exist well before our lifetimes.”

“Then what good are you?!” Myrrine snarled, and if not for the desk between them, she would have already lunged at Aspasia.

Aspasia waited until she had calmed down. When she did, the other omega stated, “I’m making sure you don’t fail, Myrrine.”

Myrrine scoffed. “To what end, gods know.”

Aspasia didn’t acknowledge the remark. “By now, Kleon must have realized your daughter isn’t as… agreeable when I’m not around. She’ll want me found, and she wouldn’t have given him a say in the matter, much less a choice. He’ll be desperate, fearful for his life, rightfully, and so he’ll divert her attention, give her something, someone else to pursue. Someone he can give to her. Someone she’d want to hunt down as much, or perhaps more, than me.”

Myrrine knew at once: “Nikolaos.”

* * *

Kleon squeaked like a mouse again. He hadn’t been expecting her, certainly not for her to land on his balcony. She counted, and on three, he stopped making a fool of himself. For now.

“You found Aspasia?” she asked simply.

“I have our fleets searching the Aegean. They have orders to dock on every Greek region and island, and then search by foot. We will find Aspasia, Deimos, I promise you.”

Deimos growled. “I’m tired of promises. I’m tired of waiting.”

Kleon stepped back. A mistake. He realized it, and stepped forward. “I understand. Aspasia promised so many things she never gave you. She made you wait too much and too long. But surely you can see reason, Deimos. It’s only been a day.”

“She shouldn’t have been able to leave Athens at all.”

“No, she shouldn’t have,” Kleon agreed, and did so without fumbling with his hands or his words. “I’ve long suspected that Aspasia’s ambitions didn’t match Kosmos’ vision. She used the Cult, and she used you, Deimos. I can only imagine how many secrets she has. But I do know one. It’s your father. I know where he is.”

Deimos knew what Kleon was really doing: scheming for time, and going about it like a snake. She cornered him, looked down on him, and he shrank under her glare. When she felt he had squirmed enough, she said, “Tell me.”

“Megaris. Your father is in Megaris.”

* * *

That same night, Deimos departed Athens. She went by land, on Phobos. The mighty lion was faster than Abraxas and needed only half the rest, so long as he was well-fed. She also didn’t need to keep to the roads, take to the mountains if she wanted to.

When she crossed the border of Boeotia, Deimos felt that she was being watched. Ikaros found no one, but the feeling persisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case the last scene was confusing: Phobos in this AU is the Nemean Lion, not the stupid horse.
> 
> Taking a break for the holidays. Aiming to update on 1st or 2nd week of January.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, but I wanted to post this week instead of next.
> 
> Graphic violence warning just in case.

When all but one of his soldiers left, Nikolaos, the Wolf of Sparta, hung his head. “We can’t hold Pagai for as long as this standstill demands, Stentor. Every day, the Athenians close in on us from the land and the sea. Our alphas eat more than we can hunt, and starving alphas, even Spartans, are no better than rabid feral dogs. Tell me you’ve found out the Athenians’ supply route.”

Stentor cleared his throat, stood straighter. “I have my best man on it, General.”

“Do better.” Nikolaos didn’t growl, but he spoke sternly. “Do it yourself.”

“Yes. Yes, General.”

Nikolaos went outside and Stentor followed, a step behind. They walked along the shore, the Athenian ships in clear view.

“A Spartan fleet was lost today,” Nikolaos said, shaking his head, “and more will be lost if we continue to sit and wait for the Athenians to bring the fight to us.”

“They throw mercenaries at our camps while their men hide in the city, as is the way of Athens,” Stentor muttered. “Mercenary loyalty only runs as deep as the drachmae flows. Perhaps it’s time to turn their own strategy against them.”

Nikoloas didn’t respond, instead looking past Stentor. 

“Pater?” Stentor whispered the word, discreet as was the concern he showed.

“That eagle, Stentor, does it seem strange to you?”

“Seems an ordinary bird to me.”

Nikolaos stared a moment longer, but then nodded. “Yes, seems so.” He put a hand on Stentor’s shoulder. “Now, my son, what were you saying about mercenaries?”

They continued to walk, neither seeing the eagle’s eyes glowing amber.

* * *

Myrrine stood at the helm with Xenia, her eyes fixed on Aspasia. The other omega drifted from one pirate to the next, always with a smile on her face. Man, woman, or alpha, it didn’t matter. They were charmed, smitten, left staring and swooning.

It made Myrrine think of Aspasia’s hands on Kassandra, of the snake touching and kissing her daughter. The lies Aspasia said, and how Kassandra must have looked at her: like Aspasia was her world, the only one who loved her.

Myrrine closed her eyes. She breathed, tried to, her hands almost crushing the rails.

“Myrrine,” Xenia called out to her, and it was strange to hear her real name after all these years. “Are you sure about this, going to Megaris instead of Sparta?”

Trusting Aspasia, was what Xenia really meant, choosing to save Nikolaos first instead of freeing Sparta from the Cult.

“Make no mistake, Xenia,” she told the pirate alpha, “it’s not a decision I made out of love. The Wolf of Sparta has much to answer for, and I’ll not have my daughter give him the peace of death until he does.”

* * *

Athens had hired a mercenary band led by a man known as Hyrkanos the Cunning. He lived up to his title, perhaps more than Kleon bargained for. The Cult meant for Athens to lose Megaris to Sparta, for Pausinias to be celebrated. Hyrkanos was resourceful as he was cunning, using Megara’s hungry, desperate civilians to steal Spartan supplies instead of his own men. He even managed to steal a map right under Stentor’s nose, information he used to thwart the Spartans’ attempts to advance into the city.

Deimos paid Hyrkanos a visit, finding the man in bed with two male omegas.

“Alpha dog, who are you?” he yelled in her face, and he almost struck her with the back of his hand. “How did you get past my men?”

Hyrkanos didn’t know who she was. Amusing, like a meandering fat insect unaware of the shadow cast by the heel of a boot about to crush it. So she said nothing, and she waited.

Hyrkanos screamed and stomped his feet, throwing a tantrum not unlike Kleon’s. Then, he realized it, almost too late, just missing her with a clumsy swing of his sword. He saw her spear first, then Ikaros, perched on her shoulder. Then her eyes. They always looked at her eyes last, the color undeniable proof of her godhood.

“Deimos.”

Hyrkanos spoke her name as one did a god’s: with awe, and fear. For that, she rewarded him an answer to his question.

“Your men welcomed me into your home.”

“They live?” he dared to ask.

She shrugged. “Phobos was hungry.”

“Ah. Your lion. Of course.” Hyrkanos bowed his head while he mumbled to himself. He set down his weapon to cover his limp dick with his hands, looking embarrassed, looking pathetic. “Megaris is yours, if you want it, Deimos. Or is it my whores you want?”

Deimos glanced at the bed. The pair of male omegas huddled together and whimpered.

“The slaver who sold them to me claimed they’d be in season soon. You’re more than welcome to breed them. I was promised they were trained for alphas, and to never refuse.”

Deimos walked, but not towards the omegas. “I don’t want them, or Megaris.”

“Then,” Hyrkanos stuttered, “what is it you came for, Deimos?”

* * *

Stentor didn’t move fast enough. Hyrkanos’ severed head landed on his feet, staining his greaves. He looked at her first, then Ikaros, and then Phobos. He knew who she was. He turned Hyrkanos’ head over with his foot, to see the mercenary’s face.

“Hyrkanos the Cunning. I was just about to put a bounty out for him.” He picked up Hyrkanos’ head. “Sparta owes you, Deimos. Name your price.”

“You are a beta.”

“Pardon?”

“You are a beta,” Deimos repeated. She remained mounted on Phobos, and stroked his mane while she spoke. They were alone. She made sure of it, catching Stentor in the middle of scouting he insisted on doing by himself. “Nikolaos is an alpha. Spartan alphas and omegas only have alpha and omega pups. You’re not his real child.”

Stentor’s eyes narrowed. “You seem to know a lot about Spartans, Deimos, and a lot about my father.”

“Your father.” Deimos scoffed.

That struck a nerve, and while Stentor failed to hide it, he didn’t forget his place. “Yes, my father. Not by blood, but my father, nonetheless. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

“But I am curious. What happened to his real family?”

“He lost his mate and his pups. An accident.” It was a lie, but Stentor didn’t seem to know it. “Now, answer my question, Deimos: why did you kill Hyrkanos?”

Deimos shrugged. “The same reason I killed Perikles.”

“And that is?”

“He was in my way.”

* * *

The Spartans took Megara in two days. Stentor was hailed a hero for removing Hyrkanos and his mercenaries from the city. It earned Stentor praise from Nikolaos, in front of all the other soldiers.

After the celebration, Nikolaos and Stentor left Megara, going to a cliff that overlooked the battlefield. They talked. They laughed. Nikolaos praised Stentor again, now as a father rather than a general.

“Victory in Megaris would not have been possible if not for you, Stentor, if not for the risk you took in hunting Hyrkanos, and the sacrifice you were willing to make for Sparta.” Nikolaos put his hand on Stentor’s shoulder. He was smiling. “Well done, my son. You’ll make a fine commander someday.”

“All I ever wanted was to make you proud, Pater.” Stentor looked happy, and then ashamed. He didn’t confess, distracted instead when Ikaros flew by. This time, Stentor noticed him. “That eagle, it’s Deimos’.”

“Deimos? She’s in Megaris?”

Then, Stentor noticed her. She had been standing behind them, waiting for them to turn around. Stentor was looking at Phobos, more wary of her lion than her. Nikolaos, however, looked at her, his face becoming paler, older.

“Kassandra.”

Deimos allowed it. Just this once.

“Kassandra?” Stentor asked. “This is Deimos.”

“Yes, who is Kassandra?” Deimos agreed. “Tell us, Wolf of Sparta. Tell us what you did.”

“What is she talking about, Pater?”

Nikolaos did nothing, said nothing, at first. Then, he sighed. He removed his helmet, and finally, he began to talk. “Kassandra was my daughter. The pythia prophesied that she and her brother Alexios would doom Sparta. The kings and the ephors chose Sparta, and I had to fulfill my Spartan duty. But it seems I failed that, much as I failed as her father.”

“You’re Kassandra.” Stentor looked at her differently now. She didn’t like it. “You survived the fall off Taygetos? How?”

Nikolaos stepped in front of Stentor. “This is between the two of us, Kassandra. There’s no reason to involve Stentor.”

“No, there isn’t,” she said, and then she kicked Nikolaos.

Stentor fell first, but not Nikolaos. She caught him by the wrist, heard the bones in his shoulder snap.

“Stentor!” he cried out, reaching out his other hand.

She held him higher, to look in his eyes. “He’s a liar, like you. He didn’t kill Hyrkanos. I did. But he’s just like you. Just like you.”

“Kassandra--”

“Deimos.” She tightened her grip, crushed his wrist. “My name is Deimos,” she said, and threw him on the ground.

Nikolaos didn’t run or fight. He stayed where he was, in pain but not showing it. Deimos sat in front of him, waiting to see if he’d break, if he’d whimper. She counted, past three, past ten, past six hundred, and still, Nikolaos made no sound.

She stood, and began to circle him. “My legs snapped when I hit the ground,” she told him, “then my back broke. I couldn’t move until sunrise. There were two dead alpha newborns next to me in that pit. I watched maggots eat their eyes from the inside.”

“The Cult found you, made you this way.”

She stopped. She stepped on his hand, slowly. “It’s more painful for bones to heal than it is for them to break. It’s fast, and it’s agonizing. I thought you’d know this feeling, that you’re like me.” She drew out her spear and squatted down. “But you’re not. Your bones are still dust. Your hand is useless now.” She drove the spear into his wrist. She’d carve his hand off, when he begged for it.

An arrow struck her back. One, then two, and then a flurry of them. Fire arrows.

Deimos deflected the arrows with her spear and her sword. She walked to the edge of the cliff, inviting the archer, the Daughter of Artemis, to take another shot.

She ripped the arrows on her back. The arrowheads were serrated, and burned with a strange fire. Otherworldly, like the huntress who loosed them.

She heard another arrow coming, because the huntress let her. She caught it, and then sent Ikaros off.

The huntress’ scent was on the arrow. Omega. Not surprising. Most Daughters of Artemis were omegas.

Through Ikaros, she saw the next arrow. It came all the way from Boeotia.

She got on Phobos, and then dove down the cliff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: the new WoW patch is terrible and I'm struggling to balance my time between writing and playing. I'm maybe 1/4 done with the next chapter and I'll try to post as soon as I can.


	4. Chapter 4

The Siren’s Call had docked at Phokis. From there, Myrrine traveled to Megaris on horseback. Xenia accompanied her, along with the best of the pirate alpha’s crew. Myrrine paid them upfront, and generously. It was the least she could do for possibly leading them to their deaths, as well as hers. Yet no price was too high, no risk was too great, if it meant even the smallest chance of getting her daughter back.

Aspasia was with them, a choice Myrrine could very well regret, but one she had to make. She couldn’t let the snake out of her sight, no matter what.

_“You can hide my face, but not my scent,”_ Aspasia had said. _“Your daughter will know. There’s no telling what she’ll do. Is that what you want?”_

_“No,”_ Myrrine had answered truthfully, and then said nothing more.

They crossed neither Athenians nor Spartans on the road. In Pagai, they found the Spartans, defeated by a lone warrior. But it was not Kassandra.

Also Spartan, whom Myrrine also mourned, it was the alpha she was supposed to mate. “Alekto,” she whispered, the name still so familiar to say.

Alekto looked imposing, wielding a massive axe with unnatural ease, wearing armor that, at times, glowed a strange light. The Spartan alphas, on their knees, beaten and bloodied, kept their chins raised more out of pride than defiance or challenge.

Alekto caught her scent before the other alphas did. Their eyes met, and if Myrrine hadn’t been certain before, she was now. Purple eyes, just as she remembered them.

“Myrrine?”

The Spartan alphas heard Alekto. Even from Kephallonia, Myrrine had known of the lies Sparta spread about her: that she had taken her own life after she lost her pups. Lies, it seemed, that reached Alekto, wherever she had been all these years.

The alpha ran to her and swept her into an embrace. Alekto’s scent was different, changed, but underneath it was still the alpha she knew.

“Nikolaos is hurt. Badly,” Alekto said, answering her question before she even asked. “A healer is tending to him. I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”

Myrrine, however, didn’t let Alekto go just yet. “Where is she?” She didn’t say Kassandra’s name, knowing the Spartan alphas were listening. “Please, Alekto,” she said when the alpha hesitated.

Alekto then answered, “In Boeotia. With my daughter.”

* * *

On Mount Helikon, Daphnae waited for Deimos. It didn’t take long. The Nemean Lion was fast. Even faster now, it seemed, since becoming Deimos’ pet.

Deimos stood before her, an arm’s length away and no closer, for now. The alpha was taller than she thought, but more disarming were Deimos’ eyes: there was no rage or spite in them, only curiosity, and awe.

“The Daughter with the hazel eyes. I remember you. You were there in Argolis, when I fought Phobos. Are you also the one who’s been watching me since I left Attika?”

Daphnae didn’t answer, but it didn’t deter Deimos. Rather, the alpha took one step closer.

“No ordinary archer could have made a shot from here to Megaris, let alone hit her mark, repeatedly. And your arrows, the fire would have melted a mortal from the inside out as quickly as lightning strikes.”

Deimos took another step. The alpha’s scent was almost distracting for how inobtrusive it was. Most alphas she encountered reeked of an unpleasant musk. Weak alphas, her father had called them. _“Pathetic.”_

A strong alpha - a Spartan alpha - didn’t stink of desperation, and there was no such stench on Deimos.

“You sought my attention, Daughter. You have it. What happens now?”

Daphnae’s hands remained at her side, her bow on her back. To put up her guard meant she was afraid, and she wasn’t. Then, finally, she gave the alpha an answer: “I should put you down.”

* * *

Deimos didn’t even see the huntress move. Suddenly, her vision spun, and her jaw was broken. It healed by the time she spun back around, but the omega was already gone.

She looked up, catching a glimpse of the omega before a rain of fire arrows came down upon her. Deimos launched herself into the flurry and towards the huntress, cutting through the omega’s bow and shoulder.

They both landed on their feet. Deimos pulled off the arrow that struck her heart and shrugged off the rest. The omega’s shoulder, split open by her spear, put itself back together, as did the bow.

Deimos smiled. At last, another god.

* * *

Myrrine learned what happened in Pagai from Bion, a male alpha her and Alekto’s age. Alekto had shown up with Nikolaos over one shoulder and Stentor on the other. The older Spartan alphas recognized Alekto, a failure thought to have died during her alpha rites. That she was alive meant she was something worse: a coward, a traitor, and the punishment for which was death.

Alekto then reminded the older Spartan alphas that she was the strongest alpha of their generation, and she showed the younger alphas what it would have been like had Kassandra grown up with them.

“I never believed that she died to her rites,” Bion said of Alekto. “She has the strength of the gods. You were the only one who could really match up to her, Myrrine. Not even those great beasts stood a chance. Did you know she was alive all this time?”

“No,” Myrrine told Bion. She thought of Alekto’s scent, how it had changed, of the mate mark on the alpha’s neck.

“I wonder who her mate is,” Bion wondered, asking the same question she was thinking.

Myrrine glanced at the tent where Nikolaos was being treated. Bion noticed.

“Why not go to him?” the male alpha asked, speaking softly. “The healer says he’ll live, thank the gods he’s an alpha, but he’ll have to make do without his hand. There was no saving it.”

“And his…” Myrrine paused, “and his son?”

“Stentor survived the fall, somehow, but the healer doesn’t think he’ll ever walk again.”

A crippled Spartan was a dead Spartan. Kassandra had left them for dead, worse than killing them. Was it intentional?

Myrrine looked at Aspasia, only to see that the other omega had been watching her. She found no answer in the other omega’s cold gray eyes.

Bion, like all the other Spartans, was suspicious of Aspasia, but no more than they were of Xenia and her crew. Myrrine knew that they were more unsettled by her presence, and of the things Nikolaos had been muttering in his restless sleep.

“Is it true, Myrrine?” Bion asked, having mustered the courage to. “Did you and Nikolaos intend to flee Sparta with your pups?”

Myrrine turned to Bion, and he shrank under her gaze. “Yes.”

“So it was no accident. Did he give your pups to Taygetos? Is that why you left?”

“Not both.” It took all of her willpower to keep her voice from breaking. “I had Alexios, and he--”

“Took Kassandra to Taygetos.” Unlike her, Bion didn’t hide what he felt. He gasped and clutched at his chest. “By the gods. My boy and I saw them that day. Kassandra thought she was going to the agoge. She was so happy, so excited.”

Myrrine walked away, past Nikolaos’ tent, and she kept going. When she was certain she was alone, she let herself cry.

* * *

Deimos fought like a Spartan: all power and aggression, but also control. Daphnae knew how to fight back. Her father taught her, began training her when she was seven and then sparring with her when she turned seventeen.

But Deimos was strong, stronger than her father, stronger than her, and could take so much more punishment, so much more pain. The armor Daphnae wore made her heal fast and numbed most of the pain, but still Deimos healed faster, and seemed so used to pain.

Back and forth they went, across Boeotia, to its forests and lakes and cities, until they ended up where they began: on Mount Helikon.

Most unnerving through it all was Deimos’ smile. It wasn’t that of a ruthless killer’s, but more a pup’s, playful and eager.

“Your aim is off, huntress. Tired already?” It wasn’t a taunt. Deimos was teasing her.

Daphnae lowered her bow. Not one arrow had hit its mark that time. Deimos’ eyes were so distracting, the innocent look in them.

“Tell me your name.”

Daphnae didn’t. They stared at each other, again an arm’s length away. Again, Deimos stepped forward, and this time, Daphnae also did.

“You and I are the same,” Deimos said. “We are gods.”

“I am no god.”

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

Daphnae shook her head, and then asked, bluntly, “Why did you attack the Wolf of Sparta?”

In an instant, Deimos’ expression changed. The alpha looked angry, dangerous. “Why did you save him?”

“You’ve much blood on your hands already.”

Deimos growled, the sound more vicious than anything Daphnae had ever heard from any beast, even the Nemean Lion. “You don’t know what he’s done.”

Daphnae didn’t raise her weapon, nor her voice. “What did he do? To you?”

“Nothing.”

“Who is he to you?”

“Nothing!” The alpha was close now, snarling and seething. “He’s nothing to me!”

It made Daphnae think of a wild animal, wounded and in pain.

Deimos glared at her, fangs bared, and then turned around. It was a clear shot, an easy one, but she didn’t take it. She let the alpha leave.

Her father showed up a little later, whom she told, “You were right, Pater. Deimos is the Wolf of Sparta's daughter.”

* * *

Myrrine made her way back to Pagai, where she found Aspasia standing between her and Nikolaos’ tent. The other omega stepped aside, after giving her a warning.

“Your daughter will return, and these Spartans will die. Whether your mate will be among them is for you to decide, Myrrine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Made a little edit in the 2nd to the last scene so it's clearer what Daphnae means. Thank you to TAE for pointing it out!


	5. Chapter 5

Nikolaos wasn’t on the cliff where she left him, nor was Stentor’s broken body at the bottom of it. Deimos only found blood, and no trail.

The Spartans told her nothing, even after their phalanx crumpled before her like their general did.

In Pagai, one Spartan, a male alpha, looked at her as Nikolaos had. He called her Kassandra. She hated the sound of it, how he said it, how he looked at her like she was mortal, like she was a pup.

He said his name was Bion. She didn’t care. He died like the rest of the Spartans in Megaris.

* * *

The Siren’s Call took back to the seas urgently, and with two Spartans aboard. They headed south, to the pirate islands. To Keos, home to Xenia and her crew. Kassandra didn’t know of it, Aspasia had assured them, and the further they went from Kephallonia and Alexios, the better.

Myrrine would have taken all the other Spartans along, if she could. She tried, but they were too stubborn, too Spartan. Even Bion, whom she begged to join them, chose his pride.

Aspasia approached the helm. Xenia, wary, stood between them, but Myrrine allowed it. The pirate alpha stepped back, but didn’t move far.

“You surprised me,” Aspasia said. “I thought for certain you’d stay in Megaris to wait for your daughter, and also perhaps that alpha you seemed very acquainted with.”

“And what would have happened if I had?” Myrrine challenged, calm, but barely.

Aspasia looked towards the deck, where Nikolaos sat with Stentor, neither Spartan speaking. Nikolaos kept his head down, and he kept his distance, as well he should.

“Would you have let your daughter kill your mate?” Aspasia challenged right back.

Myrrine could only growl. Her mate. She loathed the words, how true they would always be, no matter how deep she clawed at the mark on her neck, or how many times she tore the skin off.

* * *

Kleon had chosen to spend the night with hetaerae instead of his wife. Fortunate for him, if only so his wife didn’t have to see him cry and beg after just two broken fingers.

“Please, Deimos!” he cried, loud and embarrassing, but no one would dare help him. The brothel belonged to the Cult, not Athens. They stayed away, and they watched. “I don’t know where your father is, I swear! I swear!”

“The Cult wanted Sparta to take Megaris,” she said. Three fingers broken now. “Did you send that Daughter of Artemis to stop me?”

“What Daughter of Artemis?”

Four fingers. “Don’t lie to me, Kleon.”

“No more! No more, please!”

Five fingers.

“Why would I lie, Deimos?” Kleon sobbed. He blubbered and he drooled. “Daughters of Artemis are nothing but savage omegas! Feral bitches, feral, feral bitches!”

She stood up, and Kleon, free now, began to crawl away, but he had nowhere to go. She followed him. “There is a god among them. Just like me. Did you know about this? That there are other gods like me? Did you?”

“No,” Kleon wept like he never had broken bones before. “We thought your bloodline was the only one. We thought you were the only one, Deimos.”

Deimos stopped, not because Kleon was convincing, but because someone touched her arm. She caught the scent: omega, and familiar. “Diona,” she almost growled, but the omega’s presence soothed it into a murmur.

“Deimos,” Diona greeted her, smile as sweet as her voice. “You look tired, hungry. Surely, this can wait?”

Deimos growled, but at Kleon. Then, she followed Diona.

* * *

Diona was right. She was tired, and she was hungry. The omega bathed her and fed her, and then took her to a private room, one made especially for her. It was clean of any scents but Diona’s, having gone unused for a long time.

Deimos chased the scent, nuzzling Diona’s neck while she took the omega to the bed.

It felt good, kissing Diona, being inside her. Diona was on her back, arching under her. Deimos never took her eyes off the omega’s face, but still it was Aspasia’s name she said, gasped it into Diona’s bare neck that she didn’t bite.

* * *

It took days to reach Keos, and it felt even longer than that. Myrrine was relieved to step out of the Siren’s Call, of its suffocatingly small space where one end was Nikolaos and Aspasia was the other.

Xenia provided her with her own quarters, right next to Aspasia’s, per her request. Nikolaos and Stentor, also by her request, stayed in an entirely different house.

On that same night, Myrrine went to see Nikolaos. He tried not to stare at her neck, how it bled so much that her mate mark couldn’t be seen. His was in plain view, far too clean. She wanted to ruin it.

“Pausanias is part of the Cult,” she stated simply, bluntly. She had no pleasantries to spare for Nikolaos.

“Do you have proof?” he asked, eyes narrowed, suspicious.

“Nothing I can show the ephors.”

“On whose word, then?” Nikolaos had the gall to raise his voice. “Aspasia’s? You’re consorting with Perikles’ whore?”

She struck him with the back of her hand, not quite enough to break his jaw. He reached for his face with the hand that was no longer there, the jagged stump bumping clumsily along his chin. He looked pitiful then, realizing he was disabled, but Myrrine also had no sympathy to spare.

“Understand this, Wolf of Sparta,” she spat at him, and his title, “Aspasia is no friend of mine, and neither are you. You’re a means to an end, and nothing more. I will hunt down the Cult and get my daughter back, and if you still live, you will never see us again.”

Nikolaos coughed blood, and some of his teeth. There was shame in his eyes now, and tears. It did nothing but anger her. “Myrrine, I--”

“Don’t,” she snarled, struck him again. “I mourned you! I never stopped. I thought you died saving our pup, that, at least, she wasn’t alone in the pit of Taygetos when she took her last breath. That, at least, she knew that her father loved her so much he died for her. But you! You coward. You liar!”

Nikolaos didn’t get up, nor did he look up. He winced at her words and failed to muffle a whimper, but that was all he did.

“You are no Spartan,” she told him. “You are nothing.”

She left after that. Dealing with Pausanias could wait until morning.

* * *

Diona slept. The omega’s soft body was warm, her purring a comfort, but Deimos was wide awake. She left Diona’s arms and the bed.

She went outside, Aspasia’s torn chiton in her hand. Her scent, it was fading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to resort back to the style of the first two fics in this series, but it was either that or take ages to update. I'll flesh all this out, someday, if I ever find the time. I hope it's still telling an actual story, despite the style.


	6. Chapter 6

Myrrine awoke to a voice, unfamiliar, coming from Aspasia’s room. The walls of Keos houses were thick, built so that alphas and omegas couldn’t hear through them, but Myrrine did.

Quietly, she grabbed a weapon - a spear - and approached Aspasia’s door. She listened first, and heard Aspasia’s voice this time.

“I never would have guessed: the Daughters of Artemis bearing a bloodline as impressive as Deimos’. How did that come to be?”

“I will ask the questions, Aspasia.”

“Of course, but you should know that Myrrine is awake by now, and quite likely listening to this conversation. Deimos can hear through walls like these, and I’m certain that so, too, can her mother.”

“Myrrine? Myrrine of Sparta is alive, and she’s Deimos’ mother?”

Myrrine showed herself, setting the spear aside when she did. She gasped at the Daughter’s scent. She had been expecting Alekto’s daughter, not Alekto’s mate.

* * *

“Talk to me, Deimos. Tell me what you’re thinking, what you want.”

Deimos only grunted and pawed at Diona’s waist. The omega giggled, teasing and playful, and while she obliged and straddled her, she didn’t mount. Deimos growled softly in protest, which Diona silenced with a kiss.

It felt nice, an omega’s attention and touch. Deimos didn’t realize how much she had missed it until now.

“Let’s go out today,” Diona decided, since Deimos still didn’t speak. “It’s been some time since I last saw the city. We can go to the market, get some fresh meat, some wine, hm?”

“Wine,” Deimos echoed with a huff. Impatient, she rolled them over, pinning Diona under her. “It’s strange you enjoy it.”

“I like the taste,” Diona said with a purr, legs parting to accommodate her, welcome her.

This time, Deimos gave pause. “Did Kleon tell you to do this? To do all this?”

To distract her, control her. Just like Aspasia did.

“Tell me? Oh, no. He asked me, Deimos. He begged.” Diona pulled her closer, taking her slowly, and willingly. “But I am here because I want to be with you. Do you remember what I said? That I would love you, with all of my heart, not just a piece of it.”

Deimos stared at Diona’s neck, the omega offering it. Still, she didn’t bite, but she buried her nose there, breathed in Diona’s scent and closed her eyes.

“You would walk the streets of Athens with me?” She whispered the question, almost afraid to ask. She always walked behind Aspasia, not at her side.

“To be seen on the arm of the Greek world’s rightful ruler?” Diona petted her hair and stroked her back. “I’d want nothing more.”

* * *

Ianthe, the name of Alekto’s mate. Myrrine noticed her eyes first, the unusual color. It had always been a way to identify one of their kind, and Ianthe was no exception. What was exceptional, however, was how the Daughter of Artemis carried herself. It was with a sort of pride and power so rare in omegas, even in Spartan ones.

It made sense, suddenly, why Alekto left Sparta.

“Alkibiades told me I may find Aspasia here in Keos,” Ianthe said, explaining her presence.

“Did he? Clever boy.” Aspasia, as ever, seemed amused. “And what interest do you have in me, queen of the Daughters?”

“I am no queen.” Ianthe was dismissive of it, unbothered by Aspasia’s goading. “I seek Deimos. Alkibiades claimed that if I found you, I would find Deimos. Instead, you are here with Myrrine of Sparta.” Ianthe was looking at her now. “Is it true? Is Deimos your daughter?”

“Has Artemis taken to hunting gods now?” Aspasia asked, and despite the words being spoken by a snake, Myrrine’s maternal instincts put her on edge and ready for a fight.

Ianthe noticed, though neither her expression nor stance changed. “No, I’m not hunting Deimos, but it is because of Artemis that I seek her. There is something, ancient and dangerous, lurking beneath the Greek world. The goddess prophesied that when it emerges, only Deimos and my daughter can stop it.”

Myrrine saw the glint in Aspasia’s eyes, curious and calculating, and she decided that the snake had heard enough.

“There’s much to discuss, Ianthe, but elsewhere.”

If Aspasia was disappointed, she didn’t show it.

* * *

Myrrine went to Xenia first, trusting only the pirate alpha to watch Aspasia in her absence. Xenia was happy to oblige, though was wary of Ianthe and how the huntress slipped past Keos’ defenses and guards as though they weren’t there.

She then led Ianthe to the beach, where she was certain they could talk in private and not be disturbed.

“Alekto was in Megaris,” she told Ianthe to start. “Did you know?”

“No. We were supposed to meet in Attika. I’d gone ahead because she wanted to travel with our daughter.” As she spoke, Ianthe touched her neck, her mate mark. It was something Myrrine used to do when she missed Nikolaos. “Why is she not with you now? And what of Daphnae? They weren’t together?”

“They must have seen Kassandra leave Attika, and then followed her to Megaris,” Myrrine realized, thinking out loud.

“Kassandra?”

“My daughter. Her name, her real name, is Kassandra. She went to Megaris to kill the Wolf of Sparta, her father, my… mate. Your daughter stopped her, and Alekto brought Nikolaos and his son to the Spartans.”

After that, to help Ianthe understand, Myrrine told Ianthe what had happened in Sparta, from the pythia’s prophecy to Aspasia turning up in Kephallonia. She told Ianthe what Nikolaos had done on Mount Taygetos, and what Aspasia had done to Kassandra.

Through it all, Ianthe was quiet, pensive. Then, she said, “So it’s because of the Cult of Kosmos that your daughter is this way. The Daughters of Artemis will help you hunt down the Cult, Myrrine. Alekto should be here soon with Daphnae. I left them a message in Attika before I set off to Keos.”

“Do you believe it?” Myrrine asked. “What Artemis said, do you believe it, Ianthe?”

Ianthe wasn’t thrown off by the sudden question. “I understand your doubts, Myrrine, but there are no false prophets among the Daughters. Artemis herself spoke those words. She appeared a vision to me and my sisters, to Alekto.”

“Alekto was there?”

“Yes. It was the day I almost took her life.”

* * *

All eyes were on Deimos in Athens, and unlike when she was with Aspasia, they stayed on her. She saw it on the Athenians’ faces even when they weren’t whispering amongst themselves, the questions:

Why was Deimos loose in their city, after what she had done to Perikles?

Why did Kleon do nothing about it?

None said it to her face. None dared. They smiled at her when she looked their way, offered her the best cuts of beef, and they dressed Diona in the most expensive chiton, all without asking for a single drachma.

It was only right, Diona told her, that she be treated like the god she was.

Diona enjoyed it all, the attention, the gifts, but it didn’t compare to her, not even close. The omega hardly left her side, touched her and kissed her at any given chance, especially in a crowd.

It was something that, maybe, Deimos could get used to, being seen, and being adored.

“Isn’t this nice?” Diona asked, smiling up at her. The omega looked beautiful in her new chiton.

Purple. Of course it was.

Deimos leaned down and drew Diona closer, breathing in the omega’s scent. “It is nice,” she agreed.

* * *

In Greater Athens, there were less people, but the stares lingered longer and followed them further. Notably, an Athenian general who loitered by Athena’s statue. Deimos only noticed him because he didn’t smile or drop his gaze when she looked at him.

“Deimos, is that you? It is! It is you!” came a voice, loud and theatrical, distracting. Deimos knew who it was before she even turned around. Alkibiades. No one else in Athens would talk to her that way.

The male omega sauntered over to them, making sweeping gestures. “So the day you decide to finally tour the city, and it’s the day I was at the Pnyx. What unfortunate timing, Deimos. Ah, and who is this lovely omega with you?” He looked at Diona and gasped. “Could it be the high priestess of Aphrodite herself, all the way from Kythera? What an honor it is to have you in Athens, Eritha.”

Deimos felt Diona tense. The omega forced a smile. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for my sister.”

“Oh, Diona! Of course, of course. I should have known. Forgive me.”

“Is there something you want to tell me, Alkibiades?” Deimos asked. She didn’t have the patience for the word and mind games Athenians liked to play.

“Just to gossip, really,” Alkibiades said. “Kleon finally graced us with his presence after days of shutting himself in his house. Rumors say he injured himself training. Odd that he only hurt his fingers. If you ask me, I think his wife feels he’s made one visit too many at the brothels. Betas. They get married and then they fuck anything but each other.”

“And they think us strange,” Diona added, and the two omegas shared a laugh.

Deimos let them talk, staying quiet and preferring that. She glanced around. The Athenian general was no longer by Athena’s statue.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to have more than one chapter to post, but it didn’t feel right to post a new story without updating this one.

Daphnae felt them staring, the merchant ship’s crew and its hired alpha guards. To be expected. Daughters of Artemis were something of a myth in the Greek world: reclusive omegas who were only seen when they wanted to be seen, such as now.

So people stared, and most of all, alphas ogled. It shouldn’t bother Daphnae. It hadn’t, until now. Concerning, because her heat wasn’t due for some time. Alphas, cowardly and pathetic like the sort who leered at her now from afar, shouldn’t be affecting her. But they did. She hated the way they looked at her, how their eyes lingered on her breasts and her thighs. She hated their stench, reeking of arrogance and desperation all the same.

She couldn’t help but think of Deimos, and compare. Not once did she see lust in the alpha’s amber eyes, and her scent was one Daphnae had never encountered before: subdued, not from restraint, but from confidence, strength.

_“Spartan,”_ she heard in her mother’s voice.

Her father, sensing her distress, let out a growl that had the alphas scurrying away. They were simple, and so they feared and respected an alpha undeniably their superior in every way.

Daphnae needed no help to stand her ground, something her father had made sure of, but she allowed it. Better that than her feeding the alphas to the sharks.

The ship’s captain, a middle-aged man, berated the cowering alphas. “Dogs,” he called them, in obvious disgust. “Serves you right. You’re not being paid to drool over omegas. Why are you even sniffing around this one? She already belongs to that alpha.”

“I’m not her mate,” Daphnae told the man, and she stepped away from her father when she did. “I’m her daughter.” For this, she spoke for herself. Her father expected her to, had taught her to.

The captain looked unsure of himself, suddenly. He looked at her father, and then at her, though briefly, and he refused to look her in the eye. He muttered what wasn’t really an apology, saying, “Hardly makes a difference. Explains the slobbering, I suppose.” He bit his tongue, running away while trying to make it seem like he was just walking away instead. He kept muttering to himself, thinking they couldn’t hear him. “Animals. No place among real people, especially at sea.”

This time, Daphnae didn’t correct the man, didn’t care enough to.

They would be at Sepharos soon, and then Keos, where her mother waited.

* * *

Deimos was in bed, Diona clinging to her and purring. An omega in her arms, sleeping, at peace, it should have made her feel whole, like an alpha found worthy. Diona trusted her, cared for her, but Deimos only felt restless.

She dreamt, every night, of Aspasia, even with her nose pressed to Diona’s neck. She woke thinking, hoping, that it was Aspasia’s smiling face she would see. How foolish to miss what she had never known. Aspasia never asked her to spend the night.

Diona stirred. The omega spoke her name, softly, at first, and then again, with need. Deimos obliged, as instinct demanded. There was little else for an alpha to do when scenting a willing, wanting omega.

She took her place on top of Diona, between the omega’s open, welcoming legs. Their hips met, and Diona moaned.

Deimos watched Diona. How beautiful the omega looked. How good she felt, how soft and warm.

She gave Diona what she wanted, had the omega shuddering and coming undone. But she didn’t bite Diona’s exposed neck, and she didn’t tie with the omega. Deimos never had with any other omega, not even Diona. Only Aspasia.

“Soon, Deimos, with me,” Diona assured her, whispering into her ear while she panted against the omega’s neck. “Soon, with me, and only me.”

Soon. Deimos hated the word. Aspasia had said it a lot, too much. But from Diona, it sounded almost true. She closed her eyes, soothed by Diona’s purring. Every breath she took tasted of the omega.

* * *

Little known to the Greek world, and perhaps the rest of it: aggression, and competition, was in every omega’s nature, much as it was in their alpha counterparts. While there was no agoge for Spartan omegas, they were taught to fight, to win, specifically, against alphas.

After all, real omegas ruled alphas.

But things were different outside of Sparta. Kephallonia, in particular, was an island of betas. Its alphas posed no challenge, their pride brittle and weak, as they were. Its omegas, of which there were a mere handful, had no fight in them at all. They were small, pathetic things, raised to follow the whims of lesser men and alphas.

The archon of Lesbos, when he gifted Markos the Pramnian wine the first time, mistook her for a Daughter of Artemis. Because she was fearless, he had said, that she could look a man of his position and power in the eye.

Myrrine had been hearing about the Daughters of Artemis since she was a pup. Few Spartans had the chance to encounter them, but those who did told tales of omegas who rivaled Spartan alphas, of skilled archers and huntresses. Famously, a generation back, an entire group of alphas had failed their rites because none of them won against a Daughter of Artemis they encountered in Elis. They swore she was the goddess Artemis herself.

_ I would have won,_ she thought then, and continued to.

Growing up, Myrrine was unquestionably the strongest omega of her generation. She passed her rites with ease, for no other Spartan omega ever came close to matching her in a fight. She made every alpha yield, even Alekto.

But now, here she was, on her knees, laid down by the very omega Alekto had chosen over.

Ianthe loomed over her, the clear victor, though the Daughter didn’t revel in it.

“How long since you have been challenged, Myrrine?”

At that, Myrrine had to think, and then she laughed. “Not since Sparta,” she told Ianthe. “Not since your mate.”

Ianthe was surprised, and actually looked it. A feat, since Myrrine could count in one hand the times the Daughter had shown emotion. 

“You’ve been a wolf among sheep, then.”

“And I dared to face the leader of a pack.”

“You knew you would lose, and still you fought.”

It was just a spar, just an exercise, something to pass the time while they waited, but Myrrine held nothing back. Nor did Ianthe, and Myrrine wouldn’t have had it any other way.

She never bowed her head, never lowered her gaze. She felt no shame. Aspasia and Nikolaos were among the crowd that watched her fall to Ianthe again and again, and she felt only pride every time she stood back up.

“I am Spartan,” she said simply.

Then Ianthe, to her surprise, actually smiled. “Spartan,” the Daughter repeated fondly, touching her mate mark. “Yes, I’m familiar.”

This time when Myrrine stood, she took Ianthe’s hand, and she let the Daughter help her up. 

* * *

Deimos stared at the empty space beside her. Diona hadn’t returned, and that was unusual.

The omega hardly left her side, and when she did, Deimos knew it was to speak with Kleon, though never directly. Kleon sent alphas in his stead, often men twice her size, who once fled at the sight of her, and would flee again, should she decide to show herself.

But Deimos stayed, for now. Diona’s scent lingered, and it was calming enough. The omega never strayed far from their den whenever she met with Kleon’s men, and Deimos heard every word they said.

Tonight, Kleon’s men didn’t pester Diona with questions. Instead, they had one for her.

_“Will you wait a little longer, High Priestess?”_

_“You’re testing Deimos’ patience again? So soon?”_

_“No! We wouldn’t dare. Not again.”_

_“It’s Kleon, High Priestess! He wishes to speak with you, in person.”_

That was a surprise. How desperate was Kleon, Deimos wondered, because nothing else compelled a coward into action more than desperation.

_“Is that so?”_ Diona sounded just as surprised, but also amused. _“Very well. I shall wait. For Kleon’s sake, I do hope he hurries.”_

It seemed that he did, because he arrived, with even more alpha guards, wheezing orders. He was silent, at first. Did he expect to find her sitting with Diona?

_“Leave us,”_ Kleon said to his guards. Then he was quiet. He cleared his throat before he spoke again. _“Diona. Where is Deimos?”_

_“In our room, sleeping.”_

_“Sleeping.”_ Kleon didn’t sound convinced. 

_“Yes. Deimos is happy and satisfied, and she is sleeping. Though not for long, not without me there with her. So, will you continue to doubt me, Kleon, or will you tell me why you still haven’t found Aspasia? Unless, you’ve actually, finally found her?”_

Kleon paused before answering. _“No.”_ Another pause. _“But I will. I just need more time. Will that be a problem for you?”_

_“Deimos never has, nor will she ever be, a problem for me.”_

_“I’ve heard similar promises from Aspasia before.”_

_“Is that why you’ve gone out of your way to meet with me, Kleon?”_

_“I never trusted Aspasia, and I don’t trust you, but I need you to keep Deimos under control. I don’t care about your ambitions or your intentions with Deimos, only that you keep her on our side of the war. Do I have your word, Diona?”_

_“Keep yours, Kleon, and we shall see. Find Aspasia. Bring her here, so that I can at last prove to Deimos that I am the better omega, that I, not Aspasia, am worthy of being a god’s mate.”_


End file.
